


Anniversary Dinner

by LadyJupiter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU-Sherlock married, Anal Sex, F/M, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJupiter/pseuds/LadyJupiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler have been married for 10 years and sleep in different bedrooms. Once a year on the their anniversary they sleep together. What happens though when Irene invites a guest to dinner on their anniversary?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of wrote this on a whim and a dare somewhat. I had a tough time writing Irene and really hope I got her right. Please enjoy it. Also another tough thing about this one was I actually did a bit a research to try to make it as authentic as I could.

Sherlock and Irene are married. It's a working marriage even. He works, she works. They both come home in the evenings and have dinner together in their posh upscale flat on the richer side of London. Then after dinner they both retire to the sitting room. Sherlock usually plays his violin or stretches out on the couch and thinks. Irene sits in her chair and looks over her appointment book of clients or will do a needle point. They'll make small conversation at times, sometimes throwing riddles at each other just for fun. And then they go to bed, in separate bedrooms. And this has been the routine for the past 10 years. Sherlock regrets the day Mycroft found out he had shown the slightest bit of interest in Irene. He'd met her at school and she'd managed to one up him. It was a refreshing, if not maddening relief to find someone who operated on his level of intelligence and for it to be a girl made it all the more intriguing. So Sherlock had foolishly pursued Irene determined to prove he was the smarter and cleverer of the two of them. Somehow word had gotten back to Mycroft and before Sherlock knew it, his brother had swooped in, met Irene's family, made the proper arrangements of a courtship and as soon as both of them graduated Uni, they were married. Sherlock was pretty sure he had never wanted to be married or if he did, not as soon as he was out of school. Irene seemed indifferent about the whole thing, but Sherlock knew better. Irene craved him and that was why she'd pulled what she had, to entice him, to feed his ego and in her own way seduce him and had gotten exactly when she wanted out it; him wearing a wedding ring that matched hers. There were many times Sherlock looked at Irene and knew, just KNEW she was the one who made sure Mycroft had received the pictures of the two of them. The one where Sherlock had kissed her in order to steal her notebook of secrets on some of their classmates, the one where he was asleep on her bed next her after staying up several hours helping her with the Latin class she claimed to be failing. It had all been a set up. But Irene was good, oh she was so good, there was no way to prove anything was her doing. No matter what he tried, Sherlock could never prove any of it was her doing. And it interested and pissed him off at the same time. Sherlock had sought to find ways to end the marriage, but Mycroft had squashed all those plans within the first two years.  


"Give it time Sherlock; you've only been married 6 months."  


"Really Sherlock? A divorce after only a year of marriage, what would the family think?"  


"Mummy so adores Irene, you don't want to disappoint her again do you?"  


"Sherlock Holmes, if I so much as catch you talking to another divorce lawyer, I will officially cut you off from your trust fund, do you understand me?!" and with that final threat, Sherlock had given up and accepted the fact he would indeed be married to Irene till death did they part (or if he got lucky till Mycroft died). So as revenge for what Irene had done and that he was forced to stay married to her, Sherlock withheld the one thing he knew she wanted from him; sex. In their almost 10 year marriage, Sherlock had had sex with Irene a total of nine times. And each of those times had been on the same day every year; their wedding anniversary. Though at this point, it felt more like a duty than having sex that Sherlock barely even counted it. Though Irene tried to get him in her bedroom and bed every chance she thought she could, which was very rare. And so came the day of their 10th wedding anniversary. It started like it did every year, a nice fancy breakfast, roses delivered to Irene (thanks to Mycroft always butting in) and then they both left for the day for work. Sherlock off to do experiments at Bart's and to dig through old cold case files for Lestrade to see if he could find any new leads in them and Irene would head off to any appointments she had. They both came home that evening, Sherlock a few minutes earlier than Irene and he rolled his eyes as he heard the door open signaling her arrive. He knew exactly what the night was going to bring and he was going to make her work for it. Just because they slept together once a year, didn't mean he had to just give it to her. Besides, he thought smirking; she seemed to like the challenge. He heard her come up the stairs towards the bedrooms and as she walked by she glanced into his.  


"Oh Sherlock dear, you're not wearing that for dinner tonight are you?" she asked, eyeing the suit he'd worn that day. He looked at her oddly.  


"And why would you be interested in what I'm wearing down to dinner tonight? It'll be the same thing we have every year; Roast Beef with Yorkshire pudding, the bottle of Cabernet sauvignon my Mother sends us every year..." he smirked at her  


"And then of course there is our usual evenings, entertainment, shall we say." Irene smiled back at him.  


"Of course there is dear. But this is our 10 year anniversary and I thought we could do something different and special tonight. So I want you in your best suit. Our dinner guest will be here at 7 sharp." and she continued down to her room. Guest? Sherlock wondered. They rarely had guests (Mycroft didn't count) and Irene hardly brought her work home with her. Sherlock begrudging had to admit, he was intrigued, but he wasn't going to let Irene know it. So he pulled out of his better Anderson & Sheppard suits and put it on. As he walked out of his room, Irene came out of hers, wearing one of her better Karen Millen dresses, the red one with leopard print pattern.  


"Oh Sherlock darling, I thought I told you to put on one of your better suits, but I suppose this will have to do." she said, straightening his jacket a bit and then going about to her bathroom to put in her ear rings and finish her makeup. Sherlock snorted at the comment and check himself in the hall mirror. He felt he looked more than good enough for whatever company Irene had decided to bring over. About 10 minutes later Irene emerged from her bathroom, looking what Sherlock supposed she thought was desirable. He wasn't sure, the clothes, the make-up, and fancy jewelry had never done anything to impress him other than how much money she could spend on them. They both looked towards the stairs when the doorbell rang.  


"Ah right on time. Sherlock dear, do try to be polite won't you?" she asked.  


"I'm always polite." he muttered as he followed her down the stairs and into the foyer to greet their guest. The maid opened the door for them and Sherlock stared at the man that stood on their doorstep.  


"Is this the Holmes residence?" he asked. The maid nodded and invited the guest in. Sherlock's brain went to work analyzing him as Irene greeted him.  


"John, how nice to see you." she said, taking his hand and leading him inside a bit more as the maid took his dusty worn coat.  


"Thank you for having Mrs. Holmes." John said.  


"Oh please, no formalities, call me Irene." she said. Sherlock's mind was whirling as he took in John. Dusty blond hair; military cut. Blue eyes; haunted looking. Stance; military training. Clothes; worn from a second hand store. Tan; but not past his cuffs or collar.  


"And this is my husband, Sherlock. Sherlock this is John Watson." she said, gesturing towards him. John held out his hand to shake Sherlock's when Sherlock just blurted out.  


"Afghanistan of Iraq?"  


"I'm sorry?" John asked and looked at Irene.  


"I thought you kept things confidential." he accused. Irene laughed lightly.  


"I do John, I promise. You saw the contract when you signed it. It's just a little trick Sherlock does. He's a detective, so he tends to see things others don't and pieces puzzles together." she said.  


"Oh. Well in that case, Afghanistan." John said, seeming to relax a little. Sherlock couldn't help but stare at John. Why was he here? Irene mentioned a contract; was John a client of hers? He was buying clothes from a second hand store; there was no way he could afford Irene's services. Not to mention Sherlock knew for a fact seven out 10 of her clients were always women.  


"Sherlock?" Irene's voice finally broke through his thoughts. Sherlock shook his head and followed her and John into the dining room. They all sat at the table and Sherlock was given another surprise as it was not their typical anniversary dinner that was being served. Instead they ended up having Pan-fried Pheasant with Gooseberry Sauce and instead of the usual bottle of wine his stated earlier his Mother always sent them; they had a nice bottle of Pinot noir. Dessert was a Trifle made with plenty of fresh late summer berries. Once the dinner dishes were cleared, John leaned back and smiling, patted his stomach a little.  


"That was delicious, I haven't eaten like that in well, ever." he laughed a little. Irene smiled and sipped more of her wine. Sherlock felt a slight smile grace his face briefly. John had a nice laugh and his eyes were kind. In fact, there were a lot of things about John that Sherlock was enjoying. After finishing her wine, Irene stood and invited John to join her and Sherlock in the sitting room. The bottle of wine from his Mother for their anniversary was sitting out there and Irene had Sherlock pop it and serve them. Sherlock obliged, enjoying the slight flush appearing on John's face. John was obviously enjoying himself and the alcohol was helping him to relax more. Sherlock made himself comfortable standing by the mantel and sipping his wine, while Irene lounged on the couch, her legs spread out beside her and John sat in her chair and at her urging, began to tell them a bit more about himself. Sherlock had been right on the solider part. John had been sent home about 6 months ago after being shot in the shoulder while in Afghanistan and was staying with a colleague and former college classmate named Mike Stamford. He had a part time job at the local A&E. But the one question that Sherlock really wanted answered John never mentioned and that was how he'd met Irene. As the bottle of wine reached its bottom, Irene stood and stretched. John stood with her for some reason.  


"Well this has been a lovely evening, but if you'll excuse us Sherlock, John and I have some business to discuss." Sherlock shot her a look and Irene smirked at him. There was only one type of business she discussed and Sherlock wasn't going to let her do that, not to John. He quickly hooked his hand around Irene's arm and nodded to John.  


"If you'll excuse me John, my wife and I need to have a private discussion." Sherlock said as he drug Irene from the room.  


"Don't go anywhere John, I'll be back." Irene said as she allowed Sherlock to pull her from the room. Once they were out of the room and Sherlock hoped out of hearing range for John he rounded on Irene.  


"What are you doing?" he demanded.  


"Why Sherlock darling, I have no idea what you're talking about."  


"Don't Sherlock darling me, I know when you're playing games, you've played enough without it being our anniversary to try and converse me into your bed..."  


"Why Sherlock, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were jealous." Irene said smiling, raising a hand to his face. Sherlock quickly pushed it away.  


"Please, me jealous of John. You think I care when another man wants you?"  


"No, but I think you care when I want another man you want." she said slyly. Sherlock just stopped and stared at her, his brain trying to process what she'd just said.  


"Who is he?"  


"A client."  


"How? Even in his best second hand clothes, he couldn't afford what you offer." Sherlock said.  


"Ah, but that's my business and not yours." Irene said coolly. She slipped out of Sherlock's grip and looked him in the eyes.  


"Think of it as your anniversary gift this year. I brought John here for a treat and you get a year off from you, husbandly duties." she said and leaned up to peck him on the lips.  


"Now if you'll excuse me, I hate to keep my clients waiting." she said and strolled off back towards the sitting room. Sherlock simply let out a huff and stormed up the stairs to his room and closed his door. He began to pace, ruffling his hair a bit and trying to work things out in his head. Why was he so worried about a man he'd only met three hours ago? What the hell was Irene implying when she said Sherlock was jealous she was going to sleep with John? Sherlock had accepted his fate and that of his sexuality a long time ago and mostly he tried to ignore it. He'd allow himself the occasion wank however when it became necessary. He stopped pacing when he heard Irene walk past his room and heard John's footsteps following behind her. After the door to her room closed. Sherlock started pacing again. He could see it all now, John with his mouth on Irene, his hands roaming her body, his cock...; Sherlock shook his head. No, no, no! This wasn't right. He wasn't going to let Irene win, not this time. If anything, he wanted to be the one kissing John, not her. He wanted John's hands on his body, not hers. And that cock, Sherlock shuttered trying to imagine it. He had to stop this. He tore the door to his room open and stormed down the short hall to Irene's room and threw the door open with a force. John looked up from where he sat, still dressed, on Irene's bed and Irene stood before him, dressed in one of her finer pieces of lingere, the riding crop (her toy of choice, even with Sherlock) in hand. She smiled as she saw him, looking upset as he was.  


"15 minutes you kept us waiting darling; I was beginning to worry." she said at him in her smooth business voice.  


"What?" Sherlock asked. Irene tipped her head and smiled at him.  


"You're so adorable when you think you know what's going on. It really is quite the turn on Sherlock.” Sherlock blinked a moment and looked from her to John. John just sat there smiling at him. Irene gently poked at him with her riding crop.  


"Go on then." she said. John stood and walked over to Sherlock.  


"You're more handsome in person than the picture Irene keeps in her office." John said, his cheeks blushing a little. Sherlock looked at Irene.  


"What did you do? Buy him for me?" Sherlock demanded, almost discussed Irene would stoop to this kind of game playing, knowing well enough that Sherlock fancied men, despite being married to her.  


"Oh no Sherlock, I would never allow you to sink to that level. I'd never hear the end of it from your Brother."  


"Then what..."  


"As I've stated dear, I know what my clients like and John," she started walking up to the two of them.  


"Sweet, shy, little John here, likes you." she said.  


"It's-it's true." John muttered.  


"But how?" Sherlock wanted to know, though his head was reeling from everything he was hearing so far. John spoke.  


"My sister was worried about me. I'd been pretty sexually active before going into the army and being shot and then when I got back, all I would is work and sleep, maybe eat once every other day. So she arranged for me to meet with Irene. Said she might be able to help me with any frustrations I had. Irene figured out pretty quick I was bi with a thing more for guys than gals. But I didn't want anyone to know. It's been hard enough with my parents rejecting my sister for being gay. So she offered me to come over for dinner tonight. Said we could have some fun experimenting and that no one would know." John explained He look shyly at Sherlock and Sherlock looked dumbfounded between Irene and John.  


"Well go on then dear; John is your type isn't he?"  


"And what would you know of my type?" Sherlock snapped. Irene laughed.  


"Don't think I haven't learned a thing or two about your tastes in 10 years Sherlock. I've seen who you've looked out and what your reactions where. It's my business to know these things, remember?" she said pointedly. Sherlock let out a deep, almost annoyed breath as he glared at Irene, knowing she'd mastered something else about him. He was about to storm out of the room, when he felt a hand on his face. He looked back and saw John looking out him.  


"Can I, can I kiss you?" he asked. Sherlock looked into those deep blue eyes and suddenly everything else seemed to melt away. He leaned down and closing his eyes kissed John softly. John kissed him back, just as softly, nothing forceful or manipulative about it. After a moment, Sherlock pulled away and looked at John. John looked back at him, his eyes a bit wide and smiles.  


"That was amazing." he says breathlessly. Sherlock chanced a look at Irene, who smirked at him while undoing her hair and Sherlock, not caring if he needed permission or not, swooped down and wrapping John in his arms, began to kiss him feverishly, his tongue forcing its way into John's mouth. John let out a moan and brought an arm up to wrap around Sherlock to keep from falling. After several moments, they part when they hear the riding crop smack down on the vanity in the room.  


"Now, now John, remember our agreement." Irene said. John nodded and walked over to the bed.  


"Agreement?" Sherlock asked. Irene smirked at him again.  


"You didn't think you were going to get all the fun did you?" she asked as John sat on her bed again. Sherlock watched as Irene settled herself straddling John's lap and kissed him, slow and deep. John brought his hands up and held her around her upper back. Sherlock stood watching for a few moments, not sure exactly what to say or do. Irene broke the kiss and looked over towards Sherlock, panting a little.  


"Did you want some more of this dear? You'll have to come here then. Or would you rather watch?" she smirked. Sherlock hesitated and then took a step forward.  


"What happens if I agree to this?" he demanded.  


"I told you, you get a year off from your husbandly duties, remember?" she said, running her nails through John's hair.  


"So you want me to stand here and watch while you let John fuck you?" Sherlock asked.  


"If that's what you want Sherlock, though I've never known you to be patient enough to watch anything for very long. You can't even make it through the first act at the theater.” she said. Sherlock knew he could care less if Irene fucked somebody else, but he didn't think he could stand watching John fuck her. Not with the fact his cock had begun to swell since John kissed him.  


“I thought you said he could join us.” John said, almost sounding a little disappointed.  


“Sssh John, I’m getting there.” Irene said, stroking the top of his head and turning to kiss him softly and quickly. She then looked back at Sherlock.  


“You could stand there and watch us or as John stated you could join in.”  


“Join in?” Sherlock asked and Irene rolled her eyes slightly, smiling.  


“Still so innocent and sheltered. It’s simple Sherlock, John fucks me and you fuck John.” she said. Sherlock seemed to think this over for a moment and Irene let out an annoyed huff of breath. Finally Sherlock spoke.  


“How do you feel about this John?” he asked. John was quick to answer.  


“I agreed to it, so I could come meet you.” he said. Sherlock didn't know how to reply to this. Irene finally got off John.  


“You’d better decide what you’re going to do Sherlock. As for me and John...” she looked back towards him.  


“Clothes off.” she said to him. John stood obediently and began to undo his shirt. While he did so, Irene pulled the covers on her bed back and carefully removing her lingere made herself comfortable and lay naked on the bed. John finished undressing and at her command, climbed in with her. She tapped his back gently with the riding crop and he began to nuzzle her neck a little, kissing it.  


“There’s lube in the top drawer of my vanity Sherlock. If you don’t choose to join us, then at least sit quite or close the door on your way out.” she said and turned her attentions back to John. Sherlock watched as John began to kiss every part of Irene and though he could tell she was enjoying it, she still kept very much control, slightly lashing at his back with the riding crop if he remained in an area of her body too long. Finally after what seemed like ages kissing and almost body worship on John’s part, Irene tapped him with the riding crop and demanded his attention to her mouth. While John kissed her again, she spread her legs and Sherlock watched as John pushed his cock deep inside of Irene. She made a noise that barely registered, but from his past experiences of sleeping with her, Sherlock knew Irene was enjoying not only John fucking her, but the face Sherlock was still watching. But then Sherlock began to watch John. John with his blue eyes, now heavily dilated, sweat appearing a bit on his brow, his breathing coming out in pants as he worked a slow, steady rhythm. John's arse, the way it moved as he thrust into and pulled out of Irene. Sherlock felt himself losing it and finally giving in, grabbed the lube from the drawer and began to strip his pants off on his way to the bed, his cock thanking him for now longer being stuff in his boxers, straining at the fabric. As Sherlock reached the bed, he took his jacket and shirt off and tossed them to the floor. John looked up from Irene and Sherlock captured his mouth in a rough and claiming kiss. John moaned into Sherlock’s mouth and stopped his movements for a moment. Irene tapped him fairly hard with the riding crop and John began his movements again. As he continued to kiss Sherlock, he whispered into his mouth.  


“Fuck me please.” Sherlock looked into John’s eyes while he continued to kiss him. John’s eyes sparkled at him at the thought and Sherlock nodded. He stopped kissing John and gently rubbed a hand down John’s back and over John’s arse, enjoying the feel of one of his cheeks moving back and forth in his hand. Sherlock pulled his hand back and squirted some lube on it and rubbed in on his fingers, warming it up a bit. After a few moments of that, Sherlock made his way a bit more behind John and timing carefully with John’s movements, slide a slicked up finger inside of him.  


“Ooohhh...” John let out a small moan. Sherlock watched amazed as John seemed to push back on his finger every time he pulled back on his thrusting in Irene. After a couple of minutes Sherlock added a second finger and then eventually a third, John moaning with each added finger. Sherlock then began to experiment with his fingers a bit, curling them a little and smiled at the sound that escaped John as he brushed right against his prostrate. Finally Sherlock decided John was ready. John let out a disappointed sound as Sherlock removed his fingers from him. Sherlock quickly applied more lube to his hand though and let out a slight hum as he began to stroke himself and slick his cock up. When he lubed up enough, Sherlock climbed on to the bed on his knees behind John and angled himself just right and catching John’s hips on a backwards pull, sunk his cock deep inside of John. It was a pleasure he’d never known before. The tightness, the heat of it. Being inside of John was the most incredible thing he’d ever experienced and John seemed to be enjoying it to from the noises he was making. Sherlock wished he could just pause the moment forever, but the slap of Irene’s riding crop against his hip made it clear he was interrupting her fun as well. So Sherlock began to move in time with John. He would push in as John was pulling out and viceaversea. It felt so good and Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, his hands slowly exploring the smaller man's chest. It felt amazing to have John on his cock, the feeling of the tight pulling sensation of it, but the slow pace was starting to drive Sherlock made. He began to pick up speed, which in turn caused John to go a bit faster. The sounds of the room where a mixture of skin slapping against skin and moans and cries of names, along with demands of speeds and kisses. Sherlock found himself leaning down and kissing John’s back and neck as best he could, watching and enjoying the feel of the muscles flexing as John strained to please the both of them. He felt the pressure in his cock and balls begin to build and didn't know how much longer he could last. He fought to keep control as long as he could.  


“Sherlock, please come in me.” John gasped and Sherlock lost the small amount of control he had. He felt the coil in his stomach slip and for the first time, he orgasmed properly and oh God did it feel good. Sherlock saw white lights dance before his eyes. He felt his hips thrust on their own accord as he came deep inside of John Watson. He was vaguely aware of when John and Irene both had their own orgasms as well. His head was spinning and he felt high and dizzy on the heavy smell of sex in the room. Soon, all too soon, it was over and he removed himself from John. He moved down the bed a bit so John could properly pull out of Irene. Irene sat up and smirked at Sherlock before gently stroking John’s face with her riding crop.  


“How was it John?” she asked.  


“It was bloody brilliant.” he breathed, laying his head on Sherlock’s shoulder. Irene flashed Sherlock a look of triumphant, but Sherlock was too relaxed to care. Irene then removed herself from the bed and wrapping a robe around her, headed for the bathroom and a shower.  


“That is quite a wife you have there Sherlock.” John breathed.  


“Mm, she has her moments, I suppose.” he agreed, though it left a bad taste in his mouth. John chuckled a bit.  


“Don’t suppose she’d be up for something like this again?” John asked.  


“If it’s in your contract with her and your sister keeps paying her, she’ll be up for anything you like John.”  


“I like you.” John said quietly. Sherlock just nodded, not really saying anything. When Irene came back from her shower 35 minutes later, Sherlock and John had dressed and were lazily snogging in his room.  


“John, I believe there’s a taxi to becoming for you in about 13 minutes.” Irene said, looking at her cell phone. John sighed and nodding standing. He held out a hand to Sherlock for him to shake.  


“It was nice to meet you Sherlock.” he said, his eyes twinkling.  


“Likewise John.” Sherlock said. John turned to Irene and nodded a bit as a thanks.  


“Thank you for the lovely evening Irene. I was wondering may we do this again sometime?” he asked.  


“I’ll have to check my appointment book John, but I don’t see why we couldn’t.” she said and then smirked at Sherlock.  


“As long as you don’t change the agreement you signed.”  


“Of course not Mrs. Holmes.” John said. Irene smiled and then waved a dismissive hand at John.  


“The maid will see you to the door. Good night Doctor Watson.” John took one last look at Sherlock, smiling fondly and then headed out the door and down the stairs. Sherlock heard the front door open and close. Irene then left Sherlock’s room and head down the hall to her own. Sherlock followed behind her.  


“So, what was that all about? You never bring your work home with you.” he said. Irene sat at her mirror and smiled knowingly at him in the mirror.  


“Happy Anniversary Sherlock.” she said smugly. He quirked and eyebrow.  


“Indeed.” he said and wandered back to his own room. There was a new game to play now. A game of find the John Watson. And this one, Sherlock was determined to win.


End file.
